Ciao Roma...but not for Long!

Any woman who travels knows Italian men have a reputation for being shameless when it comes to catcalling.

Besides obnoxious men, I was expecting Rome to be loud, crazy, and dirty. I knew I'd love the food and wandering through the old neighborhoods because it's like being in a postcard, but, in the back of my mind, I was worried some old man would grab my ass and all of my money would get stolen. In reality, it turned out to be exactly the opposite.

We didn't get pick-pocketed. Being the trekkers we are, Farren and I literally walked everywhere in the center of Rome. I think we walked at least six hours a day. We only got on the bus to get to and from the airport. Rome is a wonderful place to be a pedestrian; the Italian version of Paris.

I am now wishing I knew as much Italian as Spanish because I would love to live in Rome for awhile...maybe when I retire. Half the year in Italy would be the perfect way to lower any risk I've got of having a heart attack in my old age. I will definitely be getting my Italian citizenship to make all of that easier.

One of the things I actually enjoyed most about Rome were the compliments Farren and I received from more than a couple Italianos. It's true the men had a way of looking at us that made me feel a little uncomfortable (because I am shy and I don't like that kind of attention in general), but I had to give them credit that they have the guts to look you in the eye and say "Ciao Bella" or "Ciao Bellisima" while checking you out. I ended up feeling like a compliment was an even exchange for a look that made me feel slightly awkward because it also made me feel good about myself.

Afterall, who doesn't enjoy being called beautiful by a random stranger (as long as they aren't creepy about it)? That's actually one of the things I love about the Spanish language. Everyone from the lady at the fruit stand, to my students' parents, to the little old man in the bookstore have no qualms singing others' praises. Americans (or maybe just me) are way too worried about overstepping boundaries or making someone else uncomfortable. I remember when I was little, I felt awkward telling people 'Happy Birthday.' I think I was just shy, but nonetheless, when I get home, I'm going to make an effort to be better about giving (and receiving) compliments. There is no better feeling when you are having a humdrum day than having someone unexpectedly call you 'guapa' or 'bella' or 'linda.' It always makes me smile. Quote me on this one, I'm going to do my best to share more of the things I think and often forget (or feel too embarrassed) to say.

In My 27th Year I Will...

...hopefully find a job, a place to live, and a man who wants to travel with me to all the crazy places left on my list (I've only got dodgy ones left). In that order...and I might throw getting an iPhone in before finding a man because, let's face it, it'll be much easier.

Since I've booked a trip to Morocco for later this month, I will have left my dainty size 9 footprints on five of the Earth's glorious continents. I've got Antarctica and Australia left. I have to admit, I am terrified to go to Antarctica, so I'll probably just skip it and say that going to Tierra del Fuego (I plan to return to Argentina to go there) is close enough.

I have wanted to visit Australia since I discovered the existence of platypodes in sixth grade and will definitely go there before I turn 30. That means I've got four years to save enough money for the plane ticket. Maybe I'll give myself a trip to Australia for my 30th birthday.

I am so grateful to the force of nature (or whatever it is) that has allowed me to travel as much as I have in my 27 years (I'm counting 0-1 for those of you who are thinking I'm already losing my marbles). Thanks to everyone for the birthday wishes! Without Facebook, I would feel so disconnected. It's really made a world of difference and kept homesickness at bay. Much Love to All!

On Being a Foreigner

I wear flip-flops and shorts, I like to exercise and wear workout clothes in public, I wear tennis shoes pretty much everywhere, and once in awhile, I sport my North Face hoodie. I hate cigarettes and I love peanut butter. And sometimes I eat on public transportation. So what? I'm American....

In my experience, when you're a foreigner, it's obvious to the locals no matter where you are. I've come to the conclusion that there's no point in trying to fit in because the locals can tell with one glance that you don't belong.

When you're a foreigner, you get used to being stared at and sometimes wonder if you've got something on your face you failed to notice before you left the house. But that's not it...it's just that you're speaking a different language, you look physically different or the way you dress makes you stick out.

Instead of trying to hide my foreignness, I embrace it. I am proud to be different. My landlady once told me that I didn't look American and I just laughed to myself because I'm really not sure what an American is supposed to look like. My Madrid friends and I sometimes talk about how we are a great representation of the States because physically, none of us look alike, but our shared culture and language bring us together.

Like it or not, the States is a nation of immigrants (with the exception of Natives, of course). Some of us have been there longer than others, some of us were brought there against our will, but when it comes down to it, the majority of us came from somewhere else.

That's one reason America is a nation of innovators, entrepreneurs, and hard working people. When you're taken out of your comfort zone, forced to learn a new language, and start from scratch, most people adapt to their situation and make the best of it. As such, the States, in theory, is a place where you will/should not be judged by your sexual orientation, religion, gender, or the color of your skin, but by the knowledge you bring to the table and how hard you're willing to work to make your dreams come true.

The new immigration law in Arizona, the Tea Party Movement, the never-ending fight over abortion, and the struggle to legalize same-sex marriage all threaten what America (and being American) means to me. The ideologies of the narrow-minded groups that support limiting another person's right to be who they are diametrically oppose the founding principles of our country. Often, the least interesting thing about a person is what they look like, if they are attracted to men or women, and which God they believe in.

Now, more than ever, I think it's important to take a minute to remember where you come from. I, for one, have Scottish, Sicilian, English, German, Swedish, Norwegian and French family members to thank for my current station in life. Without the hard work of those who came before me, I wouldn't be a college-educated, independent young woman who has the right to vote, play sports, make my own health decisions, and practice whatever religion I choose. I see no reason others should not be given a chance to have the same opportunities I did if they are willing to work as hard as those who immigrated to the States in my family did. When it comes down to it, most people wouldn't immigrate if they weren't completely sure they could give their children the same opportunities in their own country. Americans should be proud that so many people want to immigrate to the States and help those who want (and deserve) to stay become citizens. Immigrating is not for the faint of heart and immigrants deserve a lot of respect for leaving everything they hold dear behind. It's not easy.

Humpty Dumpty

Italians are known for their obsession with fashion. So are the French. The Spanish are not.

When I returned to Madrid after Christmas, I decided to bring only clothes I'd want to leave here since I spend my days with kids and I'm pretty sure our washing machine is not as effective as it should be. When I made said decision, I didn't think of the 'long term' effects of wearing mostly things I've had forever. I also didn't bring enough shoes, and as a result, they have not matched my outfits for the past 5 months. This is starting to drive me nuts. I blame 'being bugged' by such unimportant things on living in California for the past 3 years.

Albuquerque is a place where no one cares if your clothes match (or where they come from), no one will suggest you whiten your teeth if they are their natural color, and most people don't get pedicures, manicures, facials, etc. with any kind of regularity. It's about as far from pretentious as you can get.

When I moved to San Jose, I was immediately slapped upside the head by the fact that I was perhaps not as into self-maintenance (or fashion/shopping) as I should be. I soon discovered the Bay Area is a vacuum for that kind of stuff, and once you start sliding, it's a slippery slope.

In Madrid, I've chosen to spend my extra money on travel and have kind of let the other 'things' like a good haircut, eyebrow waxing, pedicures, etc. go by the wayside. Now that I've only got two months left here, many of the things I'm most looking forward to (at home) are superficial i.e., I plan to get a good haircut as soon as I'm done eating fish tacos - from that delicious place on Bascom - and then I'm going to get a pedicure. Damn you, California.